


To a Flame

by persnickett



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Smutlet, i do not know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 15:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persnickett/pseuds/persnickett
Summary: Thomas might just be a little too fascinated for Newt's own good.





	To a Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Wellp. I don't know. What a thing to happen for my 100th (!!) fic... This hasn't happened in a long time, but this little snippet just jumped out at me and wouldn't stop screaming until I let it be a thing already. So. Have a smutty oneshot, I guess, internet?
> 
> <3  
S

It’s always warm in the Glade, even at night. Warm and sultry and close even here, by the tall copse of the trees where the sun doesn’t always reach in the daylight, and by night… well, as quiet a place as any to sneak off to.

The loudest sound here is their breath, Newt’s sigh tearing the nighttime air like paper as he shifts under Thomas’ hand. He squirms in the grass, pressing up with his hips, reaching for him with his body. Needing his touch.

So Thomas touches – bringing the tips of his fingers down the side of his shaft in a slow, gentle exploration of silken skin, the little barely-there ridge of sensitive vein.

“_Tommy_— mh.” It isn’t enough. _That_ much at least, Thomas knows.

The little hitching noise Newt makes is an obvious complaint, and he says his name like he says a curse.

“Sorry. It’s just, I’ve never done this before.”

Newt raises his head up from the grass to look down at him and a stray leaf flutters from the side of his hair. It’s so quiet Thomas can hear the moth's-wing subtle landing it makes when it touches down. The moonlight is white and silver, bright enough he can see the way Newt raises an eyebrow pointedly down at the current object of both their attentions standing up between them, stark and straining and so surprisingly _beautiful _it makes him almost a little bit afraid.

“And you still haven’t.”

Thomas watches the way Newt’s eyes darken, all but drowning themselves in pupil, at the warm gust of his laughter over his skin.

“I just, I want to—“

Thomas dips forward, gaze still tied up tightly with Newt’s in the almost-dark, lips parting just a little; a request for permission, without words.

Newt’s head falls back, as if torn between the desperate urge to tell him again to get a move on, and the dawning thought of what it is Thomas wants to do maybe just making it worth the wait.

“Oh.” It’s barely a breath. Maybe it’s all Newt can manage. It’s enough for Thomas.

It’s salty, like he would have expected skin to be, but different, special. Newt is hard and soft and perfect and smooth and Thomas pulls back to let the taste of him melt on his tongue, and away down his throat. Trying to memorize it, cataloguing it away with the rest of the things Newt has taught him about this place, this life they have been cast headlong into together, so he can pull it out later, remember this lesson, this moment. The way his skin feels hot in places, and awake everywhere, and his heart racing so wildly that he can feel it in his throat.

Newt’s fingers come, what feels like out of nowhere, and push desperately into his hair. “You drive me mental.” They twist. Rough, but not bad. “All day. All the time, do you know that?”

“Sorry,” Thomas says it again, still so close Thomas can feel the warmth of him brush agonizingly against his lip.

“Tommy, _please_.”

“Okay,” Thomas agrees, his voice a dry husk in the soft night breeze, and he lets Newt’s trembling fingers guide him down, the quiet love-sounds he makes under the stars be the siren song that directs his course.

“Like that,” Newt breathes. Sweet and sharp and showing him the way, just like always. “Like that.”

And Thomas knows this is one lesson he never ever will forget.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~


End file.
